


Skirting the Void

by toucanpie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Death Wish, F/M, Loki Has Issues, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:26:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22267876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toucanpie/pseuds/toucanpie
Summary: Loki is not easy or settled on The Statesman. Valkyrie should've known he would never be simple. Post-Ragnorak.
Relationships: Brunnhilde | Valkyrie/Loki (Marvel)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 32
Collections: MCU Space Ships 2019





	Skirting the Void

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sodium_amytal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodium_amytal/gifts).



> Norse mythology has the Valkyries as those who choose who die on the battlefield or those who escort the dead to Valhalla.

He often comes to see her on the ship, asking about Valhalla. 

Looking put together, the charming and learned brother, he hangs around and tries to flatter her with little jokes and references to great Asgardian literature. Looking haggard and worn down, he comes back to her in the evenings and speaks in a hoarse voice, his fingers clenching in and out of a fist.

And all to ask her if she had the ability to take a person to the afterlife. If she chose, _chose_ , who got to die.

She scoffs at him and she throws his words back in his face and she slams doors on him too for good measure, but still he comes. She says no in every possible way, but it's like he cannot hear the words.

His reasons are always different, each attempt bringing a new flavour to his quest to wear her down.

"My mother -" he said once, his head tilted, his eyes lowered, his voice quiet. "She's gone - but there perhaps -"

She's not fool enough to fall for that. Any more than she believes him when he looks at her with eyes like stones and hisses something about how he won't keep running from death if it's so keen to have him.

When he murmurs of glories of halls not destined for him, the _lesser_ son, she doesn't pay him any heed then either. Nor when he slams hands down at her table and rages about realms that should not be hidden from him, not he who has travelled them all.

She's not in the habit of dragging men down just because she can, so it matters not a bit. He will not die on her watch.

\---

He's quieter in the dark, when her hands tug clothes from his body and slip over the cool skin underneath. They don't kiss because she's not his object of affection, not his courting partner, not sometimes even his friend. But his body fits hers, curves against it just right. She never has to think, just to push and get pushed back, strip and be stripped in return. She can bite his neck and he will shudder, he can claw her back and she will arch. She sees the dark things in his head and can push them around, rearrange them until it's just the two of them, their selfish egos intertwined in a deep black silence.

"Break me," he says sometimes. "Just do what it takes to get me there."

She can laugh at it now, harshly, can pat his cheek and say _no_ , nicely. She can even promise him _never_ and bear to watch his face tighten with determination. Maybe that's why they have the sex, so he doesn't have to hear no and she doesn't have to say it as much, deny him the thing he wants that she's too selfish to give.

"I've been so close," he says as he body curves in the dark. "So close, so many times, always hovering near the edge, falling, clawing, begging for it -"

She covers his mouth so he can't talk anymore. "You don't deserve it."

He stops moving to look at her, fierce, his eyes burning with betrayal, a sudden hatred on his face.

"You," she says gripping his chin. "Don't deserve it, Loki. No person does. That is what I'm saying here. Not whatever just went through your head."

Not whatever outsider complex or frantic desire for knowledge it is that eats him.

"It's not an experience to tick off, you know that right? Who searches out the afterworld? Who wants to die?"

"Me," he says with a strength she's not expecting. "Me."

\---

In the mornings he's harder to say no to. When he's sleepy or playing it amongst the mess of covers on their bed. When he looks up at her slowly from between his lashes and murmurs her name.

Sometimes she regrets the day she ever first undressed him because his body is difficult to forget. Each pale edge beckons her onwards, another touch, another pinch, another scratch of her nails. For his part, he likes it when he can lead her to frustration. When he can stop at such a moment to drive her mad with the lack of sensation.

"So tempestuous," he'll whisper into her thighs before he finally bows his head to dip between them. 

"So determined," he'll laugh as she cracks and tips him onto his back so she can finally, _finally_ climb on top. 

"What is your obsession with making me wait," she asks once, between pants as she rides him.

"Oh, you know," he says, gripping her hips to pull her closer still. "You know why I think it's only fair to make you wait for what you want."

"Fuck you," she grits out, it all becoming clear in that moment, the push and pull of it, the tease. But then the orgasm overtakes her. "Fuck, fuck."

\---

She's been dreaming of dark things since he forced his way into her memories on Sakaar. Eerie planets with never-ending horizons that promise only death. Staring creatures that scuttle through dark shadows, disappearing when she spins to look.

She's dreamt of heavy weights on her chest dragging her further and further down. Of people standing in a circle around her, their faces indistinguishable but their murderous intent clear.

It's not like she doesn't understand. These are the bleak moments his mind chooses to torment him with that he wishes to escape.

But it doesn't change her mind. She will not be the one who drags him down.

\---


End file.
